


can't fight this feeling anymore

by teenage_romeo



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Drunk Blow Jobs, Drunk Sex, Friends to Lovers, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Top Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-05 11:11:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18827491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teenage_romeo/pseuds/teenage_romeo
Summary: A night of drinking at the Ritz leads Aziraphale to spend the night at Crowley's apartment, where six thousand years of pining finally come to a head





	can't fight this feeling anymore

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, Harley here. Long time reader, first time poster, though I've beeen writing fanfiction since 2012. Anyway, enjoy this extremely self-indulgent smut fic that someone on Tumblr requested. Kudos would be appreciated if you enjoy my work!

The black cab containing a heavily drunk angel and demon rumbled through the London night, bright lights blurring as buildings sped past the window. Skyscrapers, bridges, and centuries old monuments went by unseen by the cabbie as be grumbled in the front, only being seperated from the two men (who were singing very loudly and incredibly out of tune) by a sheet of plexiglass. It was strange - he was sure he’d been listening to Radio 4, but the usual lineup of depressing news stories and slightly more depressing comedy shows seemed to have been replaced by a constant stream of Queen.

  
He adjusted his rear-view mirror to get a better look at the two men in the back. The first was a tall, wirey figure, rakish in mannerism, and dressed from head to snakeskin booted toe in black. Despite the late hour, he was wearing round, wire rimmed sunglasses.

  
The man in black was leaning over the second figure, a small, plump gentleman who appeared to have stepped straight out of the 1950s. His cream shirt - complete with sweater vest - and beige trousers had been rumpled by a night’s festivities, but it was clear that he took great care of himself. More care, in the cabbie’s opinion, than a real man should.

  
“Yes, you two would like Queen.” He thought, as the pair belted out the final chorus of You’re My Best Friend.

  
The tall man suddenly lunged forwards towards the glass divide.

  
“Driver! Pull over here! We’ve arrived!” He slurred into the intercom.

  
He pulled over outside a glistening new apartment block and gave the price of the fare.

  
Crowley reached into his pocket and pulled out two Scottish bank notes.

  
“Low grade evil at it’s finest.” He winked at Aziraphale, as the driver begrudgingly accepted that it was legal tender (though wondering who in their right mind would accept them from him this far south of the border) and sped off, glad to be rid of the two strange men.

  
The pair stumbled through the foyer of the apartment block to the lift, and began to accend the fifty or so floors to the pent house suit belonging to Crowley.

  
“I can’t believe you’ve finally accepted my invitation to come round, angel. You despise my apartment.”

  
“Well, yes, quite so,” Spluttered Aziraphale defensively. “but I don’t suppose I’ll be able to get another taxi at the time of night, so I’m left with no option. I don’t know why we couldn’t have just taken the Bentley.”

  
“It’s my night off! I’m not sobering myself up just to drive. Besides, you’re here now.”

  
The lift dinged as a robotic female voice announced that they had reached the suite.

  
Crowley swaggered into the apartment and made a beeline for the whiskey cabinet. He didn’t notice that Aziraphale’s glass turned mysteriously into red wine as it was handed to him.

  
“My dear, where will I be staying? I’ll just go and put my coat on the bed.” Aziraphale asked as Crowley flopped down on the settee.

  
“Just through the door on your right.”

  
“But that’s your room, darling.”

  
“Of course. Do you have any idea how expensive a two bedroom flat is in central London?” Crowley grinned devilishly, licking the rim of his whiskey glass with him long, serpentine tongue. Aziraphale shuddered.

  
“So where will you be sleeping?”

  
“In my room.”

  
Aziraphale froze. What the ~~devil~~ was he playing at?

  
“If this is a joke, I don’t find it very funny, dear.”

  
Crowley stood up and slowly walked towards him. He towered over his small, soft body, and bent over to lean in close to his ear.

  
“It’s no joke, angel.” He whispered, slurring some of his words, his breath warm on Aziraphale’s neck The angel broke into a hot sweat.

  
“Really, Crowley, we mustn’t - you know how it is! We’re on different sides! We couldn’t…I couldn’t possibly -” he stuttered, his mind racing for an excuse.

  
Six thousand years. Six thousand years of being together, of arguing, of laughing, of drinking, of working. Deep conversations in quiet restaurants at midnight. Lightly brushing against each other by accident, hoping the other wouldn’t notice or react. Six thousand years of stealing secret glances at each other when they thought no one was looking. Six thousands years of pining. Of yearning. Of craving.

  
And now that this moment had come, the angel was completely and utterly overwhelmed.

  
Though his countenance didn’t show it, Crowley, too was terrified. He hasn’t planned to come on this strong. Hell, he hasn’t planned to come on at all. His original thought was that he would just sleep on the couch and let Aziraphale take his bedroom. Although demons didn’t need to sleep, Crowley had always been one for getting his head down where and when he felt like it. But each night for the past week, the demon had laid awake in his empty king sized bed, crushing loneliness weighing down on his chest. He couldn’t get the angel’s face out of his mind, and he knew he had to do something about it. It was ridiculous- the two had spent millennia playing the world’s most homoerotic game of metaphorical chess to prove to each other that there was nothing between them.

  
But there was.

  
Oh ~~Hell~~ , there was.

  
The two stood there in silence of a few moments, a stand off to see who would act first. Aziraphale could see his own frightened face reflected in Crowley’s sunglasses. The tension in the room was agonising, but neither could bring themselves to make the first move.

  
Until, without thinking, the angel furrowed his brow, grabbed the demon’s glasses, and threw them across the room.

  
Crowley raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

  
“My, _my_ angel. Is that a ye-” he was cut off by Aziraphale pushing his lips into Crowley’s, in an act that surpised him almost as much as it did Aziraphale.

  
“ _Finally_.” The demon mumbled against his lips as they staggered backwards towards the wall, his body secretly heaving with relief. He'd had no Plan B if this hasn't worked out.

  
Crowley pinned him against the wall, using one hand to keep him there and the other to feel at his chest. In their hurry, Aziraphale knocked over a potted plant, and it tumbled to the floor with a crash, spreading dark soil over the plush white carpet.

  
Crowley didn't notice.

  
The kiss deepened, tongues exchanged, and Crowley’s hand began to reach for Aziraphale’s shirt buttons.

  
The angel whimpered.

  
Crowley backed off slightly, breaking the kiss between them.

  
“Angel, are you sure you want to go through with this?” He said gently, genuine concern in his glowing yellow eyes.

  
Aziraphale took a deep breath, gathered himself, and looked up from the floor.

  
“Dearest, I want you to fuck me.”

  
Crowley almost let out an audible gasp at the statement.

  
He’d never heard Aziraphale say fuck before.

  
But he wasn’t going to say no.

  
The intensity in the air grew as Crowley ripped the angel’s shirt off, buttons flying in all directions. He knew that he’s be able to fix them in the morning if he willed it so.

  
Crowley’s tongue traced the outline of Aziraphale’s neck, sucking on his tender spots, and the angel let out a small moan of pleasure. The noise lit a fire inside Crowley. He flung off his own shirt and began quickly unbuckling Aziraphale’s trousers, slipping one hand inside his perfectly laundered underwear.

  
The angel’s fingers knotted themselves into Crowley’s long red hair and he began to massage at the package inside. His cock began to grow stiff at his touch, and Crowley’s own member began to strain against his tight black jeans.

  
Aziraphale’s own trembling hands began to fumble at the demon’s belt, having seen the reaction he was getting. Before he could, Crowley tore down Zi’s trousers, underwear and all, and looked admiringly at the sight before him. He dropped to his knees and began to stroke his length, licking at the slit to taste the precum already gathering on his head.

  
“Oh dear God.” Aziraphale groaned, his hips bucking slightly into the angel’s mouth as his grip on his hair tightened.

  
“Enjoying yourself?” Crowley smirked as he began to pump at his erect shaft.

  
An annoyed, flustered look passed over the angel’s face, quickly melting back into pleasure as the demon took his whole length into his mouth and began to speed himself up in time with the thrusting of the Aziraphale’s hips.

  
“Oh, _Christ_ -” he called out brokenly, and Crowley could tell from the crack in his voice that he was already close to his climax.

  
Crowley withdrew from around the angel and growled.

  
“Not here, darling. I’m not finished with you yet.”

  
The pair stumbled quickly towards Crowley’s bedroom, and Crowley wiggled his way out of his skin tight skinny jeans and underwear, his raging hard-on free at last. He pushed Aziraphale down onto the bed, and licked his lips at the sight of him there, naked and panting.

  
“What do you want me to do to you, angel?” He purred.

  
“I want you to take me.” Whispered Aziraphale breathlessly.

  
“What was that? You’re very quiet. I can hardly hear you.” Smirked the demon as his fingers stroked his chest.

  
“I want you to _take me, Crowley!_ ” He groaned louder.

  
“That’s what I thought.”

  
He planted his lips aginst the angel’s neck and sucked, his kisses and hickies sauntering vaguely downward towards Aziraphale’s crotch.

  
“I can’t wait dear. I _need_ you.” Groaned the angel.

  
This was more than enough incentive for Crowley.

  
He flipped the Aziraphale over, grabbing his lube out of the drawer by the bedside, that had not existed until Crowley had willed it into being a few seconds beforehand.

  
“I’m going to take you to heaven and back, angel.” He moaned, rubbing his entrance and the tip of his own cock with the thick substance.

  
“Heaven would never let you inside. _I_ , however, will.” Aziraphale smirked.

  
His smirk was cut off by the sensation of the demon’s throbbing member pushing inside his entrance.

  
“Oh fuck, angel, oh _fuck_.” Crowley let out a guttural groan and he felt Aziraphale’s tight walls close around his shaft. He began to move slowly, each stroke causing the both of them to let out small noises of pleasure. He pounded away into the angel, rhythmically fucking him as Aziraphale groaned and moved his hips in time.

  
“ _Faster_ Crowley, Oh God, I need more, and I need it now.” The angel gasped.

  
Crowley sped up his thrusts, one hand wrapped around the angel’s golden hair, and the other against his back to steady himself.

  
The demon could feel the familiar tightness in his stomach and pulses of electricity from his cock, and he knew that he wasn’t far from his end. He could feel Aziraphale’s whole body shaking in pleasure.

  
“Angel, I’m going to cum.” Crowley exclaimed, his breath jerky and irregular.  
“I- I am too, oh Crowley, _dear God_ -!” He whimpered, and he felt the demon give one final deep thrust inside him, his hips bucking violently against his ass. Crowley saw spots dancing on the edge of his vision as he emptied himself into the angel, a final moan of ecstasy escaping his lips.

  
The sensation of Crowley’s warm cum filling him, and the noise he made, was enough to send Aziraphale over the edge. The angel gasped as he finished all of the bed sheets, Crowley’s cock still pounding into his prostate, allowing him to ride out his orgasm.

  
The two collapsed next to each other, staring silently at the ceiling as they tried to comprehend what had just happened.

  
“I can’t believe we waited six thousand years to do that.” Aziraphale panted after a few moments of silence.

  
“It was worth waiting for.” Crowley responded, propping himself up with his elbow to look at the angel.

  
“Round two?” He grinned.


End file.
